When she woke it was only a few tendrils of light that greeted her. They peaked through the spaces between the boards that created the walls of the Old Red. Straw tangled within the waves of her mane, old and stales stalks. It had been a needed resting place, though her form ached slightly as she rose and stretched. Her eyes still stung from the tears that she shed before she slept, and emotions rolled through her chest that made her stomach turn. Thoughts of the day before threatened to bring tears back to her eyes, and the young woman rose in the dim light determined to not let a depression fall over her. Her brother was prone to such a thing, and drinking alcohol it certainly seemed. Ares took her for a tramp, or so Mati immaturely thought. Her brother was either in love or infatuated by a loose female of Crimson Dreams. It tore her heart to pieces, unsure where to place her trust. She loved her brother, and in the past she would have stood beside him unconditionally. But there was a pull towards the gray male Ares that Mati could not ignore. She wondered how he thought of her, she painfully hoped it good.
The tall girl walked from the barn, hands holding the travel easel and her box of paints. She hadn’t been to the Manor for a few days, and as she moved towards the borders it seemed like she wouldn’t be seeing her bed for some time. She feared seeing Ares, or even Princess. Unprepared for the awkwardness that was bound to ensue, the Church girl walked until the weight of the easel was too much or the scenery fitting her mood. It would be hard to find the dreary atmosphere her mind brewed, for the sun sat high over her, and the sky as blue as water. It should be storming, or at least the clouds thick and black with rain. Instead the lands were pleasant, summer at its end and yet it seemed at its peak. It was the heavy supplies that caused her to stop. The brown female began to set up her easel, a scowl on her face and her mind fighting the anger that tested her very limits.
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